 Mutual Presents, The Mysterious Traveler. This is The Mysterious Traveler, inviting you to join me on another journey into the realm of the strange and terrifying. I hope you will enjoy the trip, that it will thrill you a little and chill you a little. So settle back, get a good whip on your nerves and be comfortable, if you can. As you hear the story I call, Death Writes a Letter. My story begins last summer in the townhouse of Martin Drake, a well-known financier. Martin is deep in argument with his older brother John, as his daughter Susan enters the room unnoticed. John, how can you possibly believe in such things? Spiritualism, nonsense is a better word for it. To a skeptic everything is nonsense, but if you'd seen and heard what I have, you too would believe. Hello Father. Uncle John. Hello Susan. I see you tour up to your old arguments. Well your father's a very stubborn man Susan. Well I may be stubborn, but I'm no fool. Imagine believing in spiritualism, telepathy and all that tommy right. I believe in spiritualism Martin and that the living can communicate with the dead. And nothing you can say will swerve me from my beliefs. Uncle John, in all these years you've been studying spiritualism. Have you ever been able to communicate with Aunt Judith? No Susan, I haven't. But there have been times late at night when I've all but broken through the barrier that separates us. Oh I give up. There's no use in arguing with a man who has an obsession. Oh that's fine Father. Now the three of us can go into supper. Oh I'm sorry Susan, but I can't stay for supper. Oh why not? I have an appointment with an Honorary Critic. A what? An Honorary Critic, a man who's an interpreter of dreams. John, good grief don't tell me you believe in that too. Why not Martin for years psychoanalysts have interpreted dreams in an effort to help their patients? The subconscious minds of the living and sometimes bridge the vast gap of death. Now John, I'm warning you if you don't give up this obsession of yours there's no telling how you'll end. I know you think I'm cracked that all the years I've spent studying spiritualism have been wasted but you're wrong. The living and the dead can communicate with each other and someday you'll realize I'm right. Now I really must be going or I'll be late. Uncle John you will drive up to the country with Father this weekend won't you? Well are you opening the summer please? I'm driving up tomorrow to open the house and engage in service. Well I'll try my best to join your Father this weekend. Oh that's fine. Don't bother showing me the door. Good night. Good night Uncle John. Good night. To think that anyone in this day and age still believes in spiritualism particularly your Uncle John it's incredible. I don't know Father. Uncle John seems so sure of himself but sometimes I feel he may be right. Oh students of nonsense. But look Father if it's all nonsense why should Uncle John believe in it? You yourself have often said he's the most brilliant man you know. And he is. It's just that well we all have our eccentricities and John's spiritualism. Until his wife died five years ago he was just as sane as you or I. No living person has ever communicated with the dead and none ever will. The word. Oh Susan come in dear. Oh I'm sorry if I woke you Father. Oh that's all right. What time is it. It's just seven o'clock. Seven o'clock. What are you doing up in dress so early. I'm driving up to the country to open our summer place have you forgotten Father. Oh yes sir you are. Didn't you sleep well last night Father. The shirt goes under your eye. No I spent a very poor night. I had a nightmare but I can't seem to remember what it was about. I'm sorry Father. Dolly is there anything I can get you. No I'll be all right you run along. I need the keys to the car. Oh yes you'll find them over there on my desk and if you need any money help yourself. Oh thank you Father but I have enough money. Have you found the keys. Oh yes here they are. Oh do you want me to mail this letter on your desk. What letter. This one. It isn't addressed. All that's written on the envelope is one word urgent. Urgent. Yes and it's in your handwriting see. Why I never wrote that. But Father it is your handwriting. Look there are ink stains on your fingers. You must have written it before you went to bed. But I tell you I didn't. Let me see that letter. Yes that's my handwriting all right. Oh Father I'm leaving now I want to get there by noon. Oh yes good bye take care of yourself. I will darling bye. Urgent. And it's my handwriting all right. But for the life of me I can't remember. Well let's see. Dear Martin. What the devil a letter in my own handwriting addressed to me. Dear Martin. No. No this can't be. It can't. Martin is anything wrong. I came as quickly as I could. You sounded so upset over the phone. Doctor Warren I'm afraid my mind is giving way. You Martin. You're the last person in the world to become unbalanced. That's what I thought until I read this letter. Yes and it's in my handwriting so I must have written it. I'm afraid I don't understand. When I woke up an hour ago this letter was on my desk. I could see it was my handwriting. And yet I don't remember having written it. You don't remember having written. No and yet I must have. There are still ink stains on my fingers. But none of this makes sense. Yes I know. What's in the letter. I'll read it to you. Dear Martin. Wait a minute. You mean it's in your handwriting but it's addressed to you. Yes. But it's signed with the name of my brother John. Signed by John. In your writing. Exactly. You better read me that letter. I maybe then I can understand this. Dear Martin. This letter will undoubtedly give you quite a shock. But after you finish reading it. I'm quite sure you'll understand why it was written. After I left Susan and you a few hours ago. I went to keep my appointment with the dream interpreter I'd spoken to about. It was shortly before midnight that I returned to my home. As usual I found Martha and Paul waiting up for me. Good evening. Good evening Mr. John. Paul Martha what are you doing up so late. I told you never to wait up for me after ten o'clock. Well we worry about you. You know what the doctor said about your heart. You should have been in bed an hour ago. You both treat me as though I were a six year old. And sometimes you act like one. Well I have a glass of warm milk for you in the pantry. I don't want any milk. It's good for you. Here let me have your coke. Oh thank you Paul. It feels good to be home. Sitting in the chair. Before the fire. Here's your warm milk Mr. John. And I want you to drink it down without any arguments. After all it's for your own good. Here take. Mr. John. Mr. John. Martha what's wrong? Oh. Mr. John he's. Mr. John. Mr. John. Answer me. He's dead. Oh. Now please Martha please don't cry. The end came very quickly. Peacefully. Martha there. It came as quite a shock Martin hearing myself declare dead. But as I saw my earthly body sitting in the armchair by the fireplace I knew it was true. John Drake was dead. I wanted to comfort Paul and Martha. Make them understand that only the body of John Drake was dead. That the spirit would live forever. I wanted to tell them that I was indescribably happy. For I knew without knowing how that on the following day I should be reunited with my dear wife Judith. Then my thoughts turned to you Martin. And in one brief moment I saw your past your present and your future. Your future left me horrified Martin for in it I saw unhappiness. Unhappiness and death. I felt that somehow I had to warn you of what the future held. I left the house I had died in and went to your home. The radio was playing. You were sitting in an easy chair reading a book unaware of what the future held for you. Martin. Martin you must listen to me. Martin look up from that book you're reading you must. But I couldn't reach you with my words. There was too great a distance between us. I stood by helpless to aid you. A few minutes later you yawned close the book and turned off the radio. A half hour later you were in bed and asleep. And then I suddenly had hope. I couldn't reach you while you were awake Martin but while you slept perhaps I could reach your subconscious. Warn you about the future. I saw your desk with writing paper on it and I knew that was the only way to reach you. I spoke softly trying to reach your subconscious. Martin. Martin listen to me. This is John. You must hear me. For it's a matter of life and death. You must do exactly as I say. I want you to get out of bed. That's it. Go back to covers. Now put your feet on the floor. Martin do as I say. That's right. Now go to your desk. That's fine. Now sit down. That's it. Pick up the pen that's on the desk. Martin pick up the pen. That's right. You picked up the pen and began to write as I dictated. Everything up to this point explains how this letter was written and now the reason for it. In looking into the future I was horrified to see that Susan would die the night of June 7th 1947 at exactly 6 o'clock. That means you must act swiftly Martin. For she has less than 24 hours to live. If you don't she will be found frozen to death. As for yourself. I see you dying as the result of an accident in a small roughly furnished room. In this room is a desk calendar and the date it shows as you lie dying is September 3rd 1947. Martin the love I bear you and your daughter has reached out from another world to warn you against the future. I pray that you will act upon this information and save yourselves. Your brother John. That's the most extraordinary letter I ever heard. Well what do you make of it Doctor? You sure this is your handwriting? Certain of it and then there are these ink stains on my fingers. Yes. It's amazing. It's obvious that I wrote this letter last night in my sleep. What upsets me is the content of the letter. The things I wrote are so fantastic that I'm afraid I may be losing my mind. No. I'm quite sure you're sane Martin. Well then how do you account for my writing such a fantastic letter even in my sleep? Has it occurred to you that this fantastic letter as you call it may not be fantastic? What? Now Henry you're not trying to tell me that you believe that this letter is true. That my brother John did die last night and came hit. Surely you don't believe in all that Tommy Rot. Then your explanation for that letter is that you wrote it while having a nightmare? Well of course. What other answer could there be? It's ridiculous to think that you a man of science could attach any credence to this letter even for a moment. You amaze me. There have been many phenomena in history. Phenomena that never could be explained. Not even by science. Oh you're almost as bad as my brother. Soon you'll be telling me that you too believe in spiritualism. Have you called up your brother this morning? Why no. Why should I have? Oh. You think he may have died last night as he wrote me in this letter? Doctor I think you'd better see a doctor. I suggest you call your brother. Well all right. I will just to show you what a fool you are for believing even for a moment that there can be anything to this letter. Why when John was here last night he looked just as healthy. Hello, Paul. This is Mr. Drake. It's my brother there. What? Last night. I have to return home. I see. Thank you, Paul. He is dead. Isn't he? Yes. Paul said that he died last night. If your brother died last night then this letter must have been written by him through your subconscious after... No, no, no. That can't be. What you're saying is madness. The dead can't communicate with the living. But in this letter your brother speaks of his death last night and goes on to tell... My brother couldn't have written that letter through my subconscious. Such things can't happen. I wish I felt as certain as you do. What about this part of the letter? In looking into the future I was horrified to see that Susan would die the night of June 7th, 1947 at exactly six o'clock in the evening. That means you must act swiftly, Martin, for she has less than 12 hours to live. If you don't she'll be found frozen to death. And that proves how fantastic the whole letter is. Today is June 7th and outside it's like summer. How could Susan possibly be frozen to death? I don't know, Martin. But if Susan were my daughter I think I'd want to be with her tonight at six o'clock. You'd never be able to forgive yourself if anything would have happened to her. I'll go with you if you like. Oh, very well. But mind you, I still don't believe that John wrote this letter through my subconscious. What time is it, Henry? It's a few minutes after six. If we hadn't had the breakdown, we'd have been there hours ago. How much further is it? As soon as we reach the top of this hill you'll be able to see it. I wish we'd reached the house before six. Now, surely you don't believe what that letter says. How could Susan possibly freeze to death? Why, it's a warm evening. It's like summer. Yes, I know, but just the same I wish we'd arrived sooner. Look, you can see the house now, down there in the valley. Susan's probably getting dinner. And we'll certainly look like a pair of fools coming up here because of that ridiculous letter. I hope you're right. Henry, Susan isn't in the room. She isn't? No. Could she be in the village or visiting friends? No, no, no, you're forgetting her car is parked in front of the house. Yeah, that's right. Well, where can she be? I'm afraid I can't answer that. I'll search the second and third floors while you search this floor in the cellar. She must be someplace in the house. Henry, where are you? Down in the cellar, Martin. I searched every room on the second and third floor, but I couldn't find a sign of her. I found her, Martin. You found her? Well, where is she? Susan. You must prepare yourself for a shock. Shock? Martin, listen to me. I found her in the cold storage room, frozen to death. No, no, she can't be dead. But she is, Martin. From what I could make out, she turned on the freezing system, fallen, then went inside to store some meats, probably right after she got here. While she was in there, the door slammed shut, locked her in. Oh, Susan. If only I'd gotten here in time. Martin, for weeks now you've been like this. Now you must get hold of yourself. You'll break down. You did everything you could to save Susan. No, no, that's just it. I didn't. John reached me from beyond the grave to warn me about the future, but I merely laughed. Had I heeded his letter, Susan would be alive today. But, Martin, you did try to get there in time. It wasn't your fault the car broke down. Yes, but if I'd believed in the letter, I'd have hired another car and kept going instead of waiting for my car to be repaired. You know, I've been thinking, perhaps it was meant that your car should break down, that you should arrive too late to save Susan. What? Perhaps it was wrong of John to break through the barrier that separates the living from the dead and warn you of the future. Well, how could it be wrong if it would have saved Susan? Perhaps it was ordained that Susan was to die when she did. And that's why the car broke down. No, no, no, no, no. I could have saved her if only I'd hired another car and rushed on to my country home. But at least now I can heed John's warning and save my own life. Save your own life? Yes. Have you forgotten the other part of the letter? As for yourself, Martin, I see you dying as the result of an accident in a small, roughly furnished room. In this room is a desk calendar and the date it shows as you lie dying is September 3, 1947. Today is August 1. That means I have less than five weeks to live unless I can save myself. Well, how can you save yourself, Martin? What's meant to be will be. Not if I'm clever enough to take advantage of the information in this letter. Dying as the result of an accident in a small, roughly furnished room. Yes, but if John had only told me what kind of an accident it was meant to be. Well, nevertheless, come what may, I'm not going to die on September 3. Just a minute. Hey, Martin, what's going on? I mean, what's the meaning of all those men around the house? Why, why was I searched before I entered the room? Henry, do you know what the date is? Well, yes, it's September 2. Yes, and in a few minutes it will be midnight and then it will be September 3. Oh, yes, that's right. The letter. In the letter John warns me that I shall die of an accident in a small, roughly furnished room. Well, you'd hardly call this drawing room that, would you? No, I wouldn't. It's my intention to remain in this room until tomorrow is passed. Now, Henry, would you mind keeping me company for the next 24 hours? No, Martin, not at all. See, I've taken every possible precaution to prevent an accident from occurring. I've removed everything from this room, but that sofa, chair, and table. I've asked me for several days. I have guards around this house and outside this room to prevent anyone from entering for the next 24 hours. It certainly sounds as though you've taken every precaution. Yes, I've, I've done everything I could think of. Henry, do you hear that? It's just midnight. September 3 is here. Martin, will you stop looking at your watch every other second? I can't help it one more minute and it will be midnight and when the clock in the hallway strikes it will be September 4. Yes, Martin, yes. Why don't you sit down and take it easy? How can I at a time like this? Martin, you must calm down. Think of your heart. Only 30 seconds more, Henry. 30 seconds. Martin, you're as white as a sheet. Well, who wouldn't be? I'm cheating death. I'm going to live. Live, do you hear? Easy there now. I can't have a feeling it would have been better if John hadn't warned you about the future. No, no, don't say that. If he hadn't, I'd have been dead by now. That's let... Henry, do you hear that? It's midnight and I'm still alive. Alive. For some weeks, Martin Drake was a sick man as the result of the strain he'd undergone. But with the coming of fall, he was well on the road to recovery. It was in late autumn that he invited Dr. Warren to go hunting with him in Maine. Day after day, the two men with their guide roamed the woods. The exercise and outdoor life did Martin a world of good and he was soon his former self, both physically and mentally. It seems to be getting much colder, doesn't it? As it feels very much like snow. I think it'll hold off for a while yet. It's like doing a little more hunting, Mr. Drake. We still got a couple of hours till it gets dark. Yes, I wouldn't mind. How about you, Henry? By all means. Maybe we'll come across that buck we spotted this morning. Yes, he was a big fellow. Where'd I put my rifle? Here it is, Mr. Drake, under the tree. Oh, yes, so it is. Here's your rifle, Doc. This rifle of mine... Martin, what happened? He shot himself, Doc. Martin, are you badly hurt? The gun went off when I picked it up on my shoulder. Easy now. I'll have a look at it. Is it bad, Doc? No, not bad. We'll just get him to a shelter and stop this bleeding. Ed Toliver's place is about a quarter of a mile from here, Doc. All right, give me a hand. We've got to get him there at once. Put him down gently on the cot. Easy now. That's it. How is he, Doc? You think it'll pull through? Of course, he just fainted from the pain and the loss of blood. Ah, let's see. Ah, if you raise a nasty wound... Yeah, fortunately the bullet went on through his shoulder. I won't have to probe for it. What are you going to do to him, Doc? Well, first I'll have to... Henry, where am I? I just lie still, Martin. We brought you to this shack where I can fix you up. My shoulder hurts. It'll be all right now once I get the bullet wound cleaned up. Pete, put my medical bag on this desk here. Open it, will you? All right. Will you have to probe for the bullet? No, fortunately it went right through. All I have to do is clean the wound. It may hurt a bit, Martin. That's all right, Henry. Go ahead. Maybe you better turn your face away from me so you won't see what I'm doing. Sometimes it's easier that way. Concentrate on the desk over there, huh? All right. Pete, hand me that tube of sulfur powder. Yep, also the... Henry! What is it, Martin? That calendar. What calendar? There on the desk. Don't you see? Yes. Do you see what date it has? September 3rd. I guess that's the end. Tell everyone back to the city. September 3rd. Martin, you mustn't get excited. Do you remember what the letter said? Henry, this is it. Oh, Martin, no, you'll be all right. If only you'll count. I'm not in it. This room is small, roughly furnished. And the desk under desk shows September 3rd, 1947. Henry, it's all as John said it would be. I haven't seen a death. He's here in this room. He's come to take me. He's come to... He's dead. Dead? But it was only a shoulder wound. You said he pulled through. Yes, but I was wrong. Shock killed him. I guess nothing can save a man when it's ordained he die. Death came to Martin Drake as it was foredoomed to come. Miss Traveller again. Too bad about Martin and Susan, wasn't it? Even John Drake's warning from another world couldn't save them. Which seems to prove that when your time comes nothing you can do can change it. You might as well not worry about it. No, I did know of a man who managed to outwith death for several hundred years. Then one day he was... Oh, you'll have to get off here. I'm sorry. But I'm sure we'll meet again. I take this same train every week at this time. I've just heard The Mysterious Traveller, a series of dramas of the strange and terrifying. In today's story, all the characters were fictional and any resemblance to the name of an actual person living or dead was purely coincidental. In the cast were Maurice Tarplin, Roger DeCoven, Eric Dressler, and Brina Rayburn. Original music was played by Paul Taubman. The Mysterious Traveller is written, produced and directed by Robert J. Arthur and David Cogan. Listen next week to a tale titled... Death is Like Copilot. The first strange and suspenseful tale of The Mysterious Traveller. Your Mysterious Traveller has turned Arthur. Yes, Maurice Tarplin has penned a chilling tale titled... Seven Casks of Death, which appears in the current issue of Dime Mystery Magazine. One of the popular publications group now on sale at your local newsstand. Don't miss it. This program has come to you from our New York studios. Another program of tense and dramatic action will follow in just a minute. Stay tuned to the station for Official Detective. Carl Caruso speaking. This is the mutual broadcasting system.